


MORBID MIND

by chaotically_cas



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Johnny & dallys deaths, just really depressing be careful, tw Guns & gun shots, tw abuse mentions & references, tw cursing, tw deaths, tw suicidal ideations, tw violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaotically_cas/pseuds/chaotically_cas
Summary: I found myself thinking bout what Dal had said. Or what Pony told us he said. ‘Do it for Johnny’.Yeah.Do it for Johnny, I thought. But not just for Johnny. For Dal and Two. For Soda and Dar. Hell, even for Pony.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	MORBID MIND

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is fucked lol

I heard the soft sounds of sleep coming from Soda on the bed next to where I sat. But I have no idea how anyone could be sleeping right now. 

Well, to be fair his brother had been missing all week. But still. Everyone was asleep but me. 

Darry was in the hospital with Pony. Two, Soda, and I were at Soda’s house. Soda asleep on his bed. Me on the floor. Two on the couch. I could hear his snores from the other room.

It wasn’t that that drove me crazy. It was the fact they could even sit still at all. Let alone close their damn eyes. That they didn’t have the same nagging feeling I had. The same prickling hotness that I felt stirring deep in my gut. 

I wanted to get the hell out of Tulsa. 

Now. 

I thought about packing my bags that second. Not saying goodbye. Just up and leaving. No second thoughts. 

But then again I’m always one for seconds thoughts. Even if I never admit to it. 

My first second thought was Soda. 

I looked over at him, sleeping so peacefully despite our whole lives being ruined in a week. He always looked peaceful though. I don’t know how he managed that.  
He even looked peaceful when I held him as he sobbed into my chest about Pony and Johnny and Sandy. First about Pony cause he was missing. Soda knew him and Johnny had something to do with that dead soc. Soda always had a sixth sense bout those types of things. That’s what made him seem so smart to me.

Then there was Dally. I almost forgot about that. Soda actually couldn’t write that note to Pony. So he had me write it for him, telling me what to say while he tried to stifle his cries. He wasn’t too good at that though.  
And when we have Dal the note, Soda could tell it was bad. I couldn’t see much more than Dal being Dal. But Soda being the big brother he was, he knew. Made me think bout him being the closest thing I ever had to a brother. But that ain’t the point. 

Then the news about Sandy came. Rumor was she got knocked up by some other guy and her parents were forcing her to move back home to raise it. Least that’s what Evie told me. She told me not to tell Soda. So when I told him anyway she broke right up with me.  
I would’ve cared if my buddies weren’t missing, charged for murder, and Soda sobbing into my arms. Telling me he ain’t never gonna find another broad like her. I kept trying to tell him that ain’t true, but he was not talking anything I said in. I considered telling him about Evie but I knew that would only make him more frustrated. So I didn’t. I didn’t tell no one. 

Truth is I have been considering breaking up with her for a while. She wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t know what I wanted. I still don’t know. But it’s not Evie, and I’m ok with that. It doesn’t mean I hate her though. She’s a real good person. It’s not like she ain’t. She’s just not gonna be my wife like how Soda thought about Sandy. 

And I couldn’t help but be real mad at Sandy for what she did to Soda. I know that it ain’t all her fault about everything but I think we all just needed someone to blame. And that someone was Sandy for Soda. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t blame her for part of it too. But truth is ain’t no one deserves what happened to either of them, I guess. 

That made me think of big man Dar. Something about Superman didn’t seem so super anymore. I don’t know how to explain it. He had always been like a second much better dad to me. Even when he was just a kid. It honestly seems like Darry never really was a kid, however. From the day I met him he was worrying bout stuff no one else was. Like when me and Soda would be playing army men, he would be asking his mom and dad how paying them bills worked. Kinda cruel irony now that I think about it.

I've always known Dar to be a bit of a drill sergeant first, friend later. But something bout the week that Pony was gone sure did break him up something awful. I don’t ever think I have seen him cry but that night when that soc’s body was found and Pony was missing, he got pretty damn close. I think he thought that Pony had been killed and his body was taken somewhere rather than him and Johnny doing the killing. It seemed like he was forcing that narrative onto himself cause to him, in a way, that seemed better. 

But then again I ain’t in the business of getting all up in his muscle coated skull. Seemed way too serious for me. 

I just kept thinking about it though. About why he was so serious. I couldn’t blame him. I mean, look at us. Two dead and one almost for a second. In a town like this I guess the only way you go places is by being serious. It makes me feel sorry for him in a way. He grew up so fast like and for what? He ain’t gonna go to college or meet a broad until he knows Pony is out of trouble. And with people like that damn Bob and Randy, those damn socs, that sure as hell wasn’t anytime soon. 

Those damn socs. 

And damn Ponyboy. Him and his smart ass mouth. I would be pissed at the kid if it wasn’t for him lying you half dead and burned in the same hospital his best friend just died in. If I knew any better I’d feel bad for him. Doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed at him. Cause I sure as hell am. 

I don’t hate the kid, not really, but sometimes I sure do feel like I do. But over this last week I actually felt myself wanting him to be there. To be that damn annoying tag along again. It was better than him holed up in some dusty ass flamed up church. I found himself practically wishing I could steal that last piece of cake from him every morning he was gone. I wouldn’t dare tell anyone though. I can’t have them thinking that I've gone soft on the kid. I wasn’t. I just don’t want him dead, so what. 

And seeing him during the rumble was just so damn pathetic. It was sad really. The kid looked half dead before he was even in the hospital. He looked like shit. Sure I picked on his hair but I knew what it means to us greasers. Especially when you’re so young and you ain’t got much else going for you. 

But that wasn’t entirely true. Pony had a lot going for him, as much as I didn’t wanna admit it. He got good grades, he could draw, and he was real smart. Not smart like Darry, Darry was a different kind of smart. Pony was a kind of smart that I didn’t understand, no one really did. No one but Johnny. But I understood enough. 

I didn’t wanna think about Johnny just yet. He was probably the one who deserved to die least of us, if I could say. I didn’t like saying it but it was true. He got too much shit. His parents deserved to be dead instead of him. Those damn rat bastards had made poor Johnny look like a human punching bag. Them and those damn fucking soc’s. Always giving him shit he didn’t deserve. Johnny didn’t deserve none of it. He never did. 

I didn’t see Johnny in the hospital. I couldn’t. I feel like a fucking dick for not seeing him. But I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t. I couldn’t see him like that. All black and blue and broken. Burned. Every time I thought of Johnny like that I wanted to beat the shit out of the nearest object just like everyone did to Johnny. Truth is, me and Johnny were a lot alike. That’s probably why I found it so hard to visit him.

He was one of the only people I’ve talked to about my dad. Probably because he understood. I would have talked to Dal but he was a dick. Johnny never was a dick. Not like Dallas. Not like me. Not like anyone else. He was the nicest hood I’ve ever met, hell, the nicest person I’ve ever met. I don’t understand why the nicest kid on the block always seemed to get it the worse. 

Sometimes so bad I couldn’t even look at him. He was, afterall, the first and only person to know when my dad hit me for the first time a year ago. And now he was dead. I didn’t wanna see him fucked up let alone dead. It reminded me too much of how I could have ended up if I cared. And I didn’t wanna think about that. 

I didn’t wanna think about Dal either. I was still in shock. I could still hear the shots that rung out and into Dally as he fell to the ground. And I couldn’t blame him for his last words being ‘Ponyboy’ and all, especially after the last week they had.

But I was still pissed at Dally. I’m pissed at everyone. But especially him. God, that dick. And how he is dead so how do you think I feel bout thinking that. Pretty fucked, yeah? Yeah I think so. God, why the hell did he do that. I always knew Dal was fucking stupid but I didn’t know he was that stupid. Then again, was it really his stupidity or his anger. Or both. Both, I think. 

He was always pissed at something, like me. He was pissed at the world for the way his life was. But I don’t blame him. We all were. I think that’s what killed him. 

His anger, I mean. Not the cops, not the guns, even though that did kill him physically. What killed him mentally was his anger. And if I got any angrier I’d end up just like him. Dying, bleeding to death in the middle of the street cause the anger had built up so much and I had snapped. But I understood him. I did. Because his best friend died. His best friend who was so much better to him than anyone was dead. And I would probably do the same damn thing if that was Soda running into that church.

Pony had told us what he said about fighting for Johnny. It was when he knew Johnny wasn’t gonna make it. I think that’s why he showed up to the rumble. Not because he wanted to help, even though he did and he was good for it, but because he didn’t care if he lived through it. He didn’t care if it killed him. And when it didn’t, he killed himself. And I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t blame him a bit. But I still did.

And I couldn’t blame Two Bit for the jokes he cracked. Sure I wanted to punch him in the face, I do a lot of the time, but I couldn’t. But I couldn’t be mad. He wasn’t one for dealing with shit. Like Darry, I have probably never seen him cry. Two Bit just didn’t cry. He laughed. He laughed at everything. He laughed when he got a black eye. He laughed when his father left. He laughed when he got expelled from school. It was how he coped. It was him.

But the one thing he didn’t laugh at was Johnny laying there in that hospital, all burnt to a crisp and awful. And seeing Dal fall to the ground. 

In the back of my mind I wished he would laugh. That was there was something to focus on, to be mad at, besides their two best friends. God I wished he was able to laugh in that moment, but I realized the possibility that we all might possibly never laugh again. 

And yeah, Two had the best home life of us. Both his parents were alive, sure his dad wasn’t around, but at least his mom liked him. His mom liked the whole gang. Especially Johnny. It made me wonder what she was thinking. Or what Two’s sister was thinking. It made me sad to think of Two’s family, almost like one who didn’t belong in this damn town, knowing death like this so close. It made me both pissed and jealous. I always wanted what Two had but not at this cost. Never at this these costs. 

Which brought me to my final of my second thoughts. My own father. 

The bastard never gave a crap about me. He never cared about anyone. Sure I ain’t getting it as bad as Johnny was but it sure as hell doesn’t feel good to have your old man screaming at you bout how worthless you are. Especially when he’s blaming you for your mother’s leaving. Feels like shit. 

I don’t talk about it much though. Ain’t in it for attention. Plus half the guys I know either don’t got a dad or got a dead one. So I figure some screaming matches, a few punches, and a couple of bucks wasn’t that bad of a deal. Especially if it meant me getting the hell out of Tulsa the day I turned eighteen. 

Or even sooner with the thoughts going through my head right now. I probably would have punched him back if it wasn’t for not alarming the gang. I had a bad enough temper as it was, don’t need to be explaining away any dead bodies. Unlike Pony. 

I thought it would be me or Dal that would be the first to kill someone. Me my dad and Dal whoever he could get his hands on. Hell, even Tim Shepard. I could even see Two or Dar killing someone before Pony. And especially before Johnny. It’s what made it all seem like a dream to me.

And that’s what made me feel like I need to wake the hell up. Get the hell out of Tulsa. For good. Run away and never come back. Not for nothing or anyone. 

But the more I thought about all of my friends. Both alive and dead. The more I wanted to stay for some fucked reason. I didn’t know why. 

Maybe cause I don’t want to end up like Dal. So angry at the world that I end up dying at the hands of an unloaded gun. Or end up like Johnny, with everyone treating me like I’m some pathetic puppy dog that can’t handle myself. That’s not what I want. That’s not what Cade and Winston wanted. 

I found myself thinking bout what Dal had said. Or what Pony told us he said. ‘Do it for Johnny’. 

Yeah. 

Do it for Johnny, I thought. But not just for Johnny. For Dal and Two. For Soda and Dar. Hell, even for Pony. 

I guess that’s when I decided. 

I’ll stay.


End file.
